


Sleep, Pretty Darling

by bluejay_unit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejay_unit/pseuds/bluejay_unit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean may have decided to let a newly-human Cas stay after he accidentally fell asleep in his lap, but he’ll be damned if he lets Sam call it cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep, Pretty Darling

 

Sam, Cas, and Dean had all made plenty of adjustments when Cas became human. They knew he had a lot to catch up on, but it turned out to be a learning curve for all three of them. There were quite a lot of daily rituals and oddities about being human that seem normal until you have to explain them to someone who’s never done them before. Some things Cas took to quickly, while others were a bit of a harder sell.

He liked eating, for instance. He acted like everything they put in front of him, from Dean’s homemade burgers to gas station nachos, was from a five star restaurant. It would be funny if it weren’t also a little sad, how easy he was to please.

He was harder to please when it came to clothes. They’d dragged him to the department store his second day back at the bunker, though he’d failed to see the purpose of new clothes. He didn’t want to try anything on, and eventually Sam and Dean had just picked some things that looked his size and drove home.

He also took to personal hygiene easier than they could’ve hoped. Cas spent over an hour reading every single shampoo label in the store, intent on picking the right one. When he proudly came back with a bottle of some sparkly hydrangea-eucalyptus crap and a matching body wash, they hadn’t seen the point of trying to explain to Cas that he’d wandered into the women’s aisle. He took similar care picking out toothpaste, returning 3 to the store before he found one he could stand the taste of.

But worst of all was sleeping.

It must seem a little unnatural, Dean thought, to shut your eyes and go unconscious when you’re a several-millennium-old being who has been sentient for that whole time. But it didn’t stop him from laughing a little as he tried to teach Cas how to fall asleep the first night. (“I dunno, just lay down and close your eyes, it’s not really something you have to learn, it’ll just happen.”) How wrong he’d been.

Cas had just laid back slowly, stiff as a board on top of the covers, and shot Dean a look like he’d just asked him to do something unsavory. He was still in his suit and jacket, having insisted he was comfortable enough without the pajamas Dean offered to lend him. Dean finally bullied Cas into ditching the coat, at least, and getting under the blankets, before Dean retreated to his own room.

He lay awake himself for a while, worried about Cas adjusting to his new mortal life. Still, he didn’t expect to be awoken a few hours later by a knock on his door, followed by Cas rushing into the darkened room, tears in his eyes.

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry Dean, I really tried but I can’t stop thinking and it’s just too much…”

And that was all he got out before Dean was up, crossing the room and pulling Cas into his arms before he could wake up enough to talk himself out of it.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dark. He’d been in caves and abandoned warehouses and far scarier dark places on hunts, and that had never fazed him. And while Cas never said exactly, Dean suspected his trouble falling asleep had a lot more to do with giving up control, to let his subconscious take over, and just plain old not being able to stand being left alone with his thoughts. And, well…shit. Dean could relate. Add to that the guilty voice in his head that suggested Dean was probably the cause of at least half of the bad memories that were keeping Cas awake in the first place, and there was no way he was sending Cas back to that cold, empty guest room.

So he brought Cas downstairs and made them hot chocolate that they sipped as they curled up on the couches. He had intended just to keep Cas company, thinking Cas would tire himself out and fall asleep. He asked him if he wanted to talk.

“About what?” Cas asked, surprised.

“I don’t know,” Dean didn’t bother to suppress a yawn. “Anything.”

Cas was usually succinct, never using any more words than he needed to. But whether it was his new humanity, or the lateness of the hour, just then he started to open up and ramble on about his memories. And they weren’t bad ones, Dean was relieved to hear, or nostalgic longing for his days as an angel. No, he went on about his life, the things he’d seen and his previous encounters on earth.      

Dean didn’t do much more than listen and nod, wondering why he’d never asked Cas about this stuff before. He guessed with how little Cas stopped by and how busy they were, a history lesson had just never been priority. Still, he was interested now, in his stories about places like Viking era Norway and ancient Egypt. He knew it was inaccurate, but he couldn’t help but picture Cas as Dean knew him there, still in his tie and trench coat. It was a pretty funny mental picture.

 As he listened, Cas’s story flowed until the words ran together, and soon Dean lost track of the meaning and just listened to the cadence of his low voice.

Dean woke up the next morning still on the couch, covered in a blanket with a pillow that had definitely not been there last night. He rubbed his eyes and peered over at Sam, who was in the kitchen frying bacon and eggs for breakfast.

“Dude, what’s with the tucking-in stuff? If you’d’ve woken me, I could have gone to sleep in my real bed.”

Sam turned towards him and raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t me. Did you forget to go to bed last night? And here I thought you were married to that memory foam.”

Sam slid the contents of the pan onto some plates, and walked over to hand one to Dean before heading back to the table.

Dean looked at the blanket over him, and then up at the ceiling, where he could hear Cas taking a shower upstairs.

 

* * *

The next night, Cas assured Dean that he was just busy combing through the bunker’s library and would be going to sleep soon. But when Dean got up to go to the bathroom around 3 o’clock in the morning, he saw a light coming from downstairs and found Cas still in the library, wearily absorbed in a stack of books.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said from the doorway, startling Cas out of his thoughts, “You gotta at least try to sleep. This isn’t good for you.”

Cas peered up at him with this vulnerable, cornered animal look that Dean was mentally kicking himself for. “I…I know,” he muttered, “I just find the process…unsettling.”

Dean sighed and came to sit next to Cas at his desk.

“You know, it’s not that bad once you fall asleep. You’ll get used to it quickly, but you’ve got to give it a chance. Humans can’t go that long without sleep.”

Cas was still looking down at the desk, like he was ashamed, so Dean clapped his shoulder and said, “C’mon, I’ve an idea.”

 

* * *

 

His idea was to get them both set up in the hammocks he’d recently put up in what functioned as a back porch for the bunker. Dean hoped the less-grounded hammocks would make Cas more at home. He also dragged out the bunker’s record player and played a Beatles album on low.

He thought he’d finally gotten it when Cas closed his eyes and relaxed a little. But just when it looked like he might actually be asleep, he’d jerk awake in a panic, like he’d forgotten where he was.

“Shh...easy, Cas, you gotta stop psyching yourself out. When you start to drift off, don’t fight it. It doesn’t mean anything bad is gonna happen,” Dean assured him after the third time this happened. There was a long pause.

“I keep feeling like I’m falling,” came the reply, in a small voice.

“Yeah, that can happen sometimes when falling asleep. I know it’s really weird, but you just gotta—,” And shit, that was totally not the reason Cas was freaked out by falling, was it? He must be remembering _literal_ falling. Like falling from _heaven_.

Music filled the sudden silence.

_“Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby…”_

“You’re not falling,” Dean said softly, his hammock swaying. “You’re safe now.”

Dean meant to stay awake until Cas fell asleep but apparently this music-and-hammock thing worked a lot better on him, and soon he started drifting off.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the afternoon of Cas’s fourth day home that his body just quit on him and passed out. One minute he was awake, blinking hazily at the hockey game on TV and the next his head was falling onto Dean’s shoulder. (And if a happy warmth spread through him from that spot, it was just because he was glad Cas was getting some rest.)

Dean tried to feel offended at Cas’s obvious lack of taste or interest in sports, but he couldn’t manage to be anything but relieved.

* * *

 

Everything was going fine until, two hours in, Dean sneezed. His shoulders shook and jostled Cas. Just when Dean was cursing himself for waking him, he realized Cas hadn’t actually woken up. He had just stretched out on the couch and resumed his nap where he’d fallen, head in Dean’s lap and a hand on his knee.

Dean just smiled and turned back to his hockey game. (And if, a little while later, after Sam left on a take out run, the game switched to a Cupcake Wars marathon, well, no one had to know about that.)

* * *

 

Dean was in the middle of wondering how Sherry from Vermont had managed to fuck up banana cupcakes _that_ badly when he caught himself running his fingers through Cas’s hair.

No, he wasn’t _petting_ him, he was just…resting his hand on his lap, and Cas was right there, and he accidentally brushed against him, but his hair was really soft…

Dean looked down at Cas, all curled up and totally relaxed. He decided it wasn’t unreasonable to momentarily mistake him for a cat. Also like a cat, he was like 90% sure it’d be a felony to move now and disturb his sleep.

* * *

 

It was about 6 o clock when Dean could no longer ignore the fact that he had major pins and needles in his legs. Cas showed no signs of stirring.

He was beginning to realize this could be a long, long night.

 

* * *

 

A little while later, Sam finally got back with the food. He was on his way to the kitchen when he saw them. He stopped dead in his tracks, pivoted, and quietly entered the room with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Dean started, pulling hand away from Cas’s hair like he’d burned it, but otherwise not daring to move. He knew the sight he and Cas probably made, but that would be a stupid excuse for interrupting the first proper sleep Cas had gotten in literally ever. He scowled at the TV like it was its fault.

Sam came up and leaned against the back of the couch behind them, still grinning like an idiot.

“Aww…”

Dean silently glares up at him, and oh, if looks could kill. Sam could practically see the lasers coming out of his eyes.

“Shh! If you wake him up, I swear to god…And he—he just fell asleep sitting up and um, kinda fell over, and well, what was I supposed to do?” Dean whispered back, going red.

Sam snorted a laugh. “C’mon, man, I wasn’t making fun of you. Really, the two of you are really—“

“Don’t you dare!”

“—Adorable.”

“Fuck off!”

Sam held his hands up placatingly as he ducked out of Dean’s reach. Still whispering, he answered, “Alright, alright. Guess I’ll just go to the kitchen with _this_ then,” he held up the takeout bags, “And you can come get yours whenever you want, _oh wait._ ”

Dean was tempted to ignore him, but he _was_ getting really hungry. He managed to snatch his bag out of Sam’s hand before he left the room.

 

* * *

   

Just when he thought he’d solved his appetite issue and would now be good for a while, he was faced with another problem. His fingers drummed on the armrest, giving in to the urge to be antsy, but he forced himself to sit still. Then Sam passed by in the hallways, and he called out to him in a stage-whispered, half-joking plea.

“Sam! I can’t do this anymore!”

“What’s wrong now?” Sam stage-whispered back, amused and pausing at the door.

“ _I have to pee!”_

“What d’you want _me_ to do about it?” he replied, walking away.

“Ugh.” Dean’s head thudded onto the back of the couch.

* * *

   

Sam joined him a while later, giving him half of a stack of library books. He said that Dean might as well help him get some research done if he’s going to be “sitting around doing nothing anyway”.

Dean might’ve been pissed, but Sammy also brought him a beer and the last slice of blueberry pie.

 

* * *

 

The night grew late, and once or twice Dean found himself dozing off. Each time he considered getting up, trying to convince himself that Cas had slept long enough for now, he remembered the look on his face that first, awful night. Stone faced, unflappable Castiel had been more terrified than Dean’s ever seen him. The angel could fly out of hell unscathed, but when faced with whatever haunted his mind, he lost it, and his first instinct was to reach for _Dean_ for solace.

Studying him now, Dean’s heart warmed to see how relaxed and content he now was. But he also knew he would never forgive himself if Cas broke while under his care.

“I’ll just have to protect you,” he said, to himself.

Cas’s fingers curled just a little tighter in the denim over Dean’s knee.

He stayed put.

 

* * *

 

More time passed, and eventually enough was enough. Having determined hours earlier that Cas actually was a heavy sleeper, Dean felt no qualms about scooping him up bridal style and carrying him to bed.

That is, until he paused at the top of the stairs, debating which bed he would put Cas in. He _should_ put him in the guest room they’d set up for him, get him used to waking up in his own bed. But he couldn’t get the image out of his head of Cas tossing and turning with nightmares in there. Cas had shown very little interest in the room anyway, decidedly far from having any sort of “nesting” impulses.

Dean entered his own room, happy to watch over Cas for the night. The irony of the way _he_ now watched _Cas_ in his sleep was not lost on Dean. But he knew he’d feel better if he kept Cas close. Being honest with himself about _why_ he wanted that, however, was a mountain to climb another day. For now, he could make Cas feel comfortable and safe.

But first he was going to the damn bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Cas woke up the next morning to a slightly suffocating weight on his chest. His initial thought was that this was some new human emotion he’d yet to unravel. But then his hands found that the weight was warm and soft. He glanced down and saw that it was in fact Dean sprawled across his chest, face tucked into Cas’s shoulder and yawning widely. 

Cas flushed. ”Um, Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t mean to disturb you, but, well, I know you usually believe quite strongly in your personal space, and uh, you seem to be—“

“Shh…” Dean murmured, closing his eyes and drowsily holding one finger up to his lips, “I’m sleeping.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know I have a tumblr now? Come say hi! I'm bluejayunit.tumblr.com


End file.
